


Blythe's got typhoid

by im_on_thedarksideofyourroom



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Green Gables, Shirbert, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22688650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_on_thedarksideofyourroom/pseuds/im_on_thedarksideofyourroom
Summary: As soon as Anne learns that Gilbert has caught what could be a deadly disease, she suddenly realizes she's in love with him. She goes over to his house to try to comfort him.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	1. Anne

Anne got the stew and laced up her boots. She took the stew she had made for dinner, knowing she’d have to make another batch later. It wasn’t as if she minded making stews, she thought as she strode over to the Blythe-Lacroix home. It was certainly her devoir to help Gilbert in any way she could. 

The sultry summer wind made the hem of her dress flounce around her legs. Her pale cheeks were already burned from all the time she’d been spending in the sun, but the sun poked around her hat, determined to burn her cheeks an ever rosier red. It seemed callous for the environs to allow such a lovely summer day to exist when Gilbert was ill. 

She wanted to run, run as fast as she could. Then she would probably spill the steaming hot soup and make a bad day worse by burning herself. Why had she even bothered with the soup? The soup was slowing her down and she needed, needed to see Gilbert.

How could she have been so stupid, so blind for so long? The instant she heard of his diagnosis she had a realization that shook her to the core. She loved Gilbert. Not in a puerile way like she’d always believed she’d loved him. But in a real, romantical way that her orphaned childhood-self could’ve only imagined.

She saw Bash doing chores near the barn; Delphine was digging a stick into the ground. Instead of her typical rousing conversation with Bash and her spending 15 minutes giving Delphine a piggy-back ride in which Delphine would conquer all the imaginary knights, she waved politely to the two of them and marched on towards the house. 

The front door was open when she arrived. 

“Hello?” She called out, wondering if Bash’s mother or the doctor was in the house.

She heard nothing and took a few steps into the kitchen. “Gilbert?”  
She thought she heard a quiet “Anne” and a louder snore from one of the side rooms. 

She crept towards the door where she thought the snore was coming from. She gently knocked once with her elbow before opening the door. “Gilbert?” She whispered as she peeked around the door frame. 

Gilbert was asleep in his bed: his face pressed into his pillow with undulated hair slick and stuck to his eyebrows. She walked back to the kitchen and rested the stew atop the stove. 

She crept back into his room and sat in the chair that had been placed next to his bed. His cheeks were sallow from his feverish symptoms. She wouldn’t wake him up, she decided. It would be selfish of her to wake him up just because she wanted to talk to him. 

She had spent the last two years barely ever talking to him, and she had been so utterly fatuous. If only…she then noticed his hand reposed on top of a piece of paper. She gasped. She hadn’t meant to be intrusive, but when she saw who the letter was from she couldn’t look away.

Phillipa Gordon 201—

Why was Gilbert holding a letter from one of her dearest friends? A flare of jealousy sprang up in her before she could tamp it down. She remembered the first year at Redmond when Phil had told Anne how handsome Gilbert was, and how she wished that he had been interested in her rather than Anne. 

Anne forced her mind to think of the present. Anne had been a bridesmaid at Phil’s wedding mere weeks ago. Phil married a marvelous, humble preacher who was decidedly not Gilbert. 

That all begged the question, why on earth did Gilbert possess a letter written by Phil? Would this augur well?

“Anne?” Gilbert coughed through the grogginess of sleep and disease.

“Gilbert…” Anne grabbed his hand, letting the letter fall down the quilt. 

His eyelashes fluttered as he whispered “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s always good to see you Gil.”

“So you came over here to watch me sleep?” He smiled

She almost laughed despite herself. “No. I brought stew. Has the doctor left?”

“Yes. He’ll be back tomorrow to check up on me.”

“Good. Good.”

As the silence settled in the room, Anne could feel the desolation seeping into her bones. She felt her eyes watering a little. “Oh Gil, I’m so sorry. It isn’t fair that a man as bright and young as you should be struck with a deadly illness.”

“People recover from typhoid all the time.”

“Some people don’t.”

“Anne, I know that, I’m a doctor” Why was he acting droll?

“That’s not funny. You could die and I would’ve, I would’ve, I…” She trailed off.

“You would’ve what?” Gilbert looked at her with the longing that she’d barely seen from him since she turned down his proposal years ago. 

“Anne?”

“I…” She again ran out of words for how she felt. How to casually tell a dying man that she was wrong about almost everything, that she spent most of college courting the wrong man, that she wanted to get married to him and have his children, and that she was so lucklessly in love with him.

Gilbert must’ve seen the confusion in her eyes because he squeezed her hand “Anne?” He whispered. The shiver from the squeeze ran up through her body and all down her spine.

She finally knew what to say: “Don't go Gilbert. I’d miss you an awful lot.”

“I’m not going anywhere Anne.” He coughed “Ms. Shirley-Cuthbert, I’d miss you too much.” His voice was absent of rancor. His eyes bore into hers and she saw the clearly visible longing for her and the fear of not being able to recover from what had befallen him.

“I believe you.” She whispered.  
Gilbert, shifted his body so his back was pressed into his mattress. 

“Can you tell me a story?”

“Of course. Please stop me and let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

“Anything Gilbert.” Anne launched into a story encompassing pirates and dancing, and Gilbert drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used parts from the book and show for this story! Next, the story will be from Gilbert's perspective.


	2. Gilbert's Perspective

He and Phil were standing in a forest. “Try again.” She told him.

“But what if she doesn’t love me?”

“Maybe she doesn't love you, but at least then you know that you tried.”

“I did try. It-”

“She didn’t accept Roy’s proposal-”

“I know, and I’ve never felt so much relief after hearing the daily scuttlebutt.”

But Phil wasn't finished. “-and Roy was a modern day prince. He was just so handsome and chivalrous. I was always so jealous that he never paid me any mind.”

“Phil, if she rejected Roy, why wouldn’t she reject me too? Again, might I add. Wouldn’t Anne just tell me if she changed her mind?”

“Just go.” And with that she turned him around and pushed him out of the forest. Gilbert stood facing the cliff of Avonlea and there she was.

“Gilbert?” Anne called his name. Her hair was loose and cascading around her face as the wind whipped the locks of auburn back and forth. She was wearing a light blue dress that brought out the brilliant color in her eyes. 

He wanted to move towards her, but he couldn’t move from where he where he stood. “Anne, I’ve missed you an awful lot.” Either the wind or anxiety blocked the noise so his voice sounded muffled.

She ran towards him “Gilbert.” She jumped up on top of him, nearly barreling him over. Her legs twisted behind his back. She squeezed him and didn’t let go. He felt his own arms wrap around her waist just as tightly. He knew that behaving like this in public was indecorous, but he couldn’t find it in himself to let go. After a moment she reached out and ran her fingers through his hair as she put her mouth near his ear “I love you with all my heart…” 

He awoke slowly out of his slumber. The auburn haired girl of his dream appeared to be sitting by his bed, with a blank expression.

“Anne?” Gilbert coughed.

“Gilbert…” Anne grabbed his hand with both of hers, melting his heart.  
He whispered, “It’s good to see you.” He wondered how many times he’d pictured her in his bedroom. Now that it was finally happening, it didn’t feel the least bit dramatic, it just felt natural.

“It’s always good to see you Gil.” That wasn’t what she usually said when she saw him. He tried to lighten the mood.

“So you came over here to watch me sleep?”

She smiled. “No. I brought stew. Has the doctor left?” He wondered if she’d used the curry Bash had given the Cuthbert’s as a Christmas present years ago.

“Yes. He’ll be back tomorrow to check up on me.”

“Good. Good.”

All of a sudden Anne’s eyes started watering. “Oh Gil, I’m so sorry. It isn’t fair that a man as bright and young as you should be struck with a deadly illness.” Oh, so that was it. She was just feeling sorry for him. 

“People recover from typhoid all the time.”

“Some people don’t.”

“Anne, I know that, I’m a doctor.” Well, technically he hadn’t even started medical school yet. If he was being honest with himself he was terrified of missing out on the many years of life he’d dreamed of. No medical school, no kids, no career, no wife, just a premature death. Not to mention his fear of death itself.

“That’s not funny. You could die and I would’ve, I would’ve, I…” She trailed off.

“You would’ve what?” Gilbert feared the hope rising in his chest “Anne?”

“I…” What would she say? Would she say that she wish she’d accepted his proposal? Or say she loved him all along? Maybe she’d say she would’ve had seven ginger/brunette babies with him. Woah. He really needed to reel in his imagination.

She looked so conflicted “Anne?” He whispered.

“Don't go Gilbert. I’d miss you an awful lot.”

“I’m not going anywhere Anne.” He coughed. “Ms. Shirley-Cuthbert, I’d miss you too much.” It was the pure and simple truth.

“I believe you.” She whispered.

Gilbert, realizing that she was in no rush to confess her love for him and feeling tired from fighting his disease mentally and physically, shifted his body so his back was pressed into his mattress. “Can you tell me a story?” She could tell him exquisite stories in that theatrical voice of hers. With so much inflection, her fantastical tales of faraway lands always made him feel more at home somehow.

“Of course. Please stop me and let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

“Anything Gilbert.” She launched into her tale. Her voice wasn’t relaxing necessarily, but it was warm and inviting. Soon, he found himself drifting off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys think that adding so many vocab words in Anne's chapter was a little much? I feel like between her reading repertoire and her love for words she would have a very extensive vocabulary internally. 
> 
> I think this story is done, but let me know if you think there's anything I should add.


End file.
